


Mimzy

by bootsy_mine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootsy_mine/pseuds/bootsy_mine
Summary: Head Boy Draco is forced to go back in time prevent the murder of Head Girl Hermione. Except he has no idea who murdered Hermione, and how he is going to prevent the past from repeating itself again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K.  
> Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no  
> Copyright infringement is intended.

The Dark Mark flared to life sending burning pain through Draco’s body starting on his forearm and running like fire through his veins. Ignoring the pain that he’d grown accustomed to, Draco cast a Tempus charm to see it was almost midnight. Sighing in frustration, he threw the covers off his body feeling the chill on his naked flesh. The Dark Lord’s remaining minions were a right inconsiderate band of bastards taking the precious hours of sleep his hectic schedule allotted to him. It was his seventh year which meant a heavier workload from all his classes and NEWTS preparation. In addition, Draco had been made Head Boy adding to his responsibilities. Unlike Granger, the head girl, Draco was a member of the Quidditch team and had been chosen their team Captain adding still more to his duties and workload.

Reluctantly, he pulled on a pair of black trousers and a black button down shirt foregoing pants in his hurry to dress. Pulling on a pair of black socks and his well-worn dragon hide boots, he grumbled at the Mark that had intensified in its burning. All that was left was to grab a black robe and his Death Eater mask before he sprinted from the Head Boy’s room and down the hall. Someone would be waiting for him deep inside the Forbidden Forest, best not to keep the murderous, masked man or woman in black waiting.

Draco raced through the corridors pulling on the robe and carrying the Mask. It wasn’t safe to don the Mask inside the castle where he was still watched closely. When Potter defeated the Dark Lord, Severus had vouched for Draco claiming he’d been an innocent which was enough to keep him out of Azkaban, but he was still monitored closely. He fared far better than the other Death Eaters who were considered wanted criminals and being hunted.

The air was crisp with a strong breeze chilling his body despite the clothes and cloak. An involuntary shiver ran through his body spurning him on faster. The moment Draco reached the edge of the forest; he donned his mask and put his wand to the Mark. It would automatically take him to the meeting place within the forest. As he popped into a clearing, the burning in his arm finally subsided, but his relief was only momentary as he noticed a group of 10 masked Death Eaters already gathered and more popping up as he took in his surroundings.

“Our Lord is gone, but we shall find a way for his return!” a woman’s voice thrilled. If he didn’t know she was dead, Draco would have thought the voice belonged to his aunt Bellatrix and briefly wondered who was under the Mask.

“There will be no return; the prophecy has come to its conclusion,” Severus's voice responded.

Draco smiled grateful that the Mask hid his face and features. If Severus were there, he had an ally and hopefully Aurors were on their way to round up this band of misfits and take them to Azkaban where they belonged.

“There is a resurrection spell that we haven’t tired,” the insane woman’s voice insisted.

“You have nothing left of him to use; resurrection spells require a piece of the one to be resurrected and a living sacrifice of greater or equal worth,” another strange voice added.

“I have something of his,” the deranged woman disagreed, holding up a small metal object that glinted briefly in the moonlight before she fully concealed it.

“Who do you propose to serve as the sacrifice?” Severus drawled.

Lightning lit up the clearing brighter than the sun as words written in fire appeared in the center of the clearing declaring, “It has been accomplished.” A loud sound that rivaled thunder permeated the group, and the ground trembled causing those in the circle to stumble, some losing their footing while others fell to the ground which began to open pulling those who had fallen in.

Draco stared in horror as those around him continued to spill into the gaping hole. Somehow he’d remained standing but feared he would fall any minute.

“Run, Draco!” Severus’s voice broke through the haze of horror that had been keeping him immobilized.

Turning, he ran as fast and far from the gaping hole as he could, unwilling to slow or look back. It felt as though he were running against the tide as the ground sank threatening to pull him in. He stumbled feeling himself begin to fall. A strong arm clutched his waist steadying him and helping him to regain his footing. The strong arm was replaced by a warm hand grasping his own and pulling, urging him on.

“Jump!” Severus’s voice shouted in his ear.

Draco obeyed jumping as far as his legs could go and pulling Severus along with him by the tight grip on his hand. Both fell to the ground less than an inch from where the hole in the ground had finally stopped expanding.

“What happened?” Draco asked, pulling his mask off and looking at Severus.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never experienced anything like that before,” Severus answered.

“Can they do it? Can they bring him back?” Draco worried.

“I don’t think so, Potter made it impossible for him to return before removing the threat completely,” Severus reassured.

“Then, what does ‘it has been accomplished’ mean?” Draco worried.

“I fear we’ll find out,” Severus answered.

As if on cue, the ground began to restore itself removing all evidence of the gaping hole and even showing grass and debris on the surface as though the incident had never occurred.

Draco limped back to the Head Common Room his body aching everywhere from the intense run for his life. After what he’d just witnessed, he feared he would suffer a restless night.

Entering the common room, he noticed Granger slumped over her books at the desk. Wanting nothing more than to collapse into his bed, he called out to wake her so she would not be stiff from sleeping in the awkward position.

When she failed to respond, he contemplated heading to bed and leaving her, but his conscience wouldn’t allow it. Granger and Potter had both spoken up for him at his trial despite their childish rivalries. He owed her. The least he could do was to wake her and tell her to go to bed so she could enjoy a night in comfort.

Walking over to the desk, he put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. Her shoulder was abnormally stiff and cold. Ice ran through his veins and into his stomach. He slowly turned her stiff body to see her face, white and frozen with a look of horror. Granger was dead and had been for some time.

Draco felt horrified and ill. He’d hated Granger in youth and claimed he wanted her dead a million times over but he’d never truly meant it. He respected Granger even if he didn’t like her. She’d grown up to be surprisingly attractive, but the frozen look on her face was anything but. She looked as though she’d been shocked and terrified.

Had she known her attacker? It had to have been an attack despite the appearance of her having fallen asleep over her books. It couldn’t have been poison. Who could have gotten to her inside the school? Who had access to the head students’ common room? Only teachers, Granger and Draco himself had the passwords, and there had been no sign of forced entry upon his return.

She hadn’t even had time to rise from her chair. Who would she have trusted enough to remain at her studies upon their entry and how did she know at the last moment that her life was about to end?

A horrific thought entered Draco’s mind. Granger never rose when he came or went. She trusted him. Feeling ill, he decided to investigate further.

Draco whispered a spell, traces of green glimmered around her prone form centering on the back of her head. “Avada Kedavra, then,” Draco mumbled having determined the means of Granger’s death. Someone had gained access to their room and cast Avada Kedavra on the back of Granger’s head.

Draco lifted his eyes momentarily and caught his reflection in the window above Granger’s desk. So that’s how she’d seen her killer, she’d noticed the reflection in the glass when the person had drawn their wand. Perhaps the glass would remember.

Raising his wand to the glass, Draco clearly stated, “Commemoro!”

Looking into the glass Draco saw a reflection of Granger reading in her books, she looked up into the glass and smiled at his reflection as he entered. Her reflection showed her horror as he raised his wand and cast, a green light leaving the wand and hitting in the center of the back of her curly head. Her body slumped forward over her books as though she’d fallen asleep. His image disappeared leaving the common room through the door he’d entered.

Draco shook his head; it couldn’t be. The glass showed him murdering Granger. She’d trusted him, thought she was safe. Only in the last moment of her life did she realize her mistake. He felt guilty. He should never have shown her that he meant her no harm. In the past, she was always on guard against him. If he had continued to treat her poorly, she would have been prepared. Maybe her life could have been spared.

Draco’s mind went wild. Granger would be found by morning. They’d blame him! He’d be pegged as the Death Eater murderer by all. The glass memory would condemn him to Azkaban! What defense could he offer? He was in the Forbidden Forest meeting with wanted Death Eaters and sharing in a resurrection spell to restore the Dark Lord. That would so prove his innocence!

He had to think. What could he do? The bile rose in the back of his throat, and he briefly wondered what Potter would do. Potter would go to Granger. Her mind was brilliant. Back in second year, she’d figured out about the basilisk even before the teachers.

Oh, Merlin, Granger was dead. He had to get it together. He wanted his mother, his beautiful mother, who always looked out for him and protected him. What would she do? What had she done in the past? She’d asked Severus to make an Unbreakable Vow to protect him. Severus was here. Severus must care about him. He’d stood up for him in court, called him innocent. Severus had helped him escape when the ground was swallowing others. He’d helped him back to the castle. Severus was brilliant. He’d know what to do.

The only question was could Severus be trusted? He needed a way to ensure that Severus would work with him to find Granger’s murderer. It was the only way to prove his innocence.

“Think, Malfoy, think,” he chided himself. Lightning cut across the sky triggering a thought. Potter.

If he called Potter, he might believe him. Why would he tell Potter if he were guilty? He’d have to be careful of Weasley. He wasn’t logical. He’d kill Draco first and then use reason after. So, he’d need to get Severus and Potter without Weasley.

As Head Boy, Draco had the passwords to all the Common Rooms. Stowing his mask and black robe in his trunk, he cast a quick Scourgify to remove the mud and debris from his appearance. Another restored his well-worn dragon hide boots to their previous immaculate condition. Taking a deep breath, Draco slunk out of the Head’s Common room and headed for the staircase. Why did the dim Gryffindors have a common room at the top of the castle? Who wanted to climb all those stairs at the end of the day?

Draco jogged up the staircase despite the aches and pains he was feeling throughout his entire body. It was no wonder Longbottom lost his baby fat running up and down those stairs several times a day. Draco was angry and frustrated. It had been a long day. He was meant to be sleeping not playing find the Potter and prevent him from setting you arse over teakettle.

Rolling his eyes, Draco whispered to the fat lady, “We regret nothing.” She opened the way allowing him to enter the Gryffindor common room.

Using all the Slytherin stealth he possessed, he snuck up the last flight of stairs towards the boys’ dormitories. Scanning the room, he looked over his fellow 7th years. Longbottom was snoring loudly, and Weasley was drooling so much that his pillows were wet. Turning, Draco finally saw Potter sleeping peacefully. It seemed a shame to wake him. Draco doubted he’d had much restful sleep prior to the Dark Lord’s death.

Casting a quick silencing spell, Draco gently rubbed Harry’s shoulder to rouse him.

“What the?” Harry mouthed as he looked up at Draco.

Draco put a finger to his mouth in a gesture to be silent and made a motion to show Potter he wanted him to follow.

Potter looked skeptical and rightly so considering their past. To Draco’s relief, he grabbed his wand and crawled out of bed. Draco smirked at the red pajamas covered in golden snitches.

Harry responded with a glare casting a spell to end the silencing one.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Harry hissed.

“I need your help, it’s about Granger,” Draco answered.

Harry turned as though he were heading back to the dorm, likely in an attempt to get Weasley.

“Don’t get Weasley,” Draco demanded.

“Why not?” Harry wisely questioned.

“He won’t be reasonable,” Draco explained.

“Why do I need to be reasonable? You aren’t in love with Hermione, are you?” Harry asked.

“No, it’s not like that. Something happened, and I need you to listen to everything before you react. I need your help,” Draco informed Potter.

“What happened?” Harry demanded.

“Come with me to Severus’s rooms and I’ll tell you everything,” Draco promised.

“Why do you want Snape?” Harry questioned.

“Two reasons. First, I need him to vouch for my whereabouts to you. Second, we’ll need his help to find out what really happened,” Draco told Potter.

“This had better be important,” Harry declared.

“It is,” Draco insisted.

“Lead on, Malfoy,” Potter demanded.

Draco nodded and led Harry down the stairs and towards the dungeons. The closer they came to Severus’s rooms the faster Draco moved.

“Slow down,” Harry hissed.

“Got to get there without Filch seeing us if anyone gets to the Head Common Room before this is resolved there will be a lot of trouble,” Draco chided.

When they arrived, Harry and Draco were both out of breath and panting. Draco whispered the password and pulled Harry into the living room area of Severus’s private quarters.

“Wait here,” Draco directed as he opened a closed door and quietly entered.

A few moments later Draco came back out with the Potion’s Master in tow.

“What is so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus asked.

“I need you to verify that I was with you earlier this evening. I need you to be my alibi and then we have a problem,” Draco stated slowly and clearly.

“What happened?” Snape questioned.

“Why do you need an alibi? And, what does any of this have to do with Hermione?” Harry added sounding impatient.

“When I returned to the Head Common Room after the forest,” Draco stated pointedly to Snape, “I found Granger slumped over her books. At first, I thought she was asleep, but she wouldn’t wake. Granger’s gone.”

“Gone?” Harry questioned in disbelief sounding stunned.

“Dead?” Snape responded his Slytherin mind obviously spinning with questions and possibilities.

“It gets worse,” Draco continued.

“How can it be worse than Hermione dead?” Harry shouted.

“Keep your voice down. You don’t want to wake the whole castle!” Draco hissed before adding, “I was set-up. The killer looked like me.”

“You killed her?” Harry asked stunned.

“I didn’t but it looks like I did,” Draco countered, turning to Severus he added, “and I think Granger was the sacrifice based off the time of death.”

Severus’s usually pale face went whiter. Turning faster than Draco thought was possible, he turned to Potter.

“Did you destroy all the Horcruxes?” Snape demanded of Harry.

“I think so,” Harry stammered looking at Draco in fear. The secret of the Horcruxes was not meant to be shared. He didn’t want Draco knowing about them. And he was still feeling stunned over the thought that Hermione might be dead. And what was Malfoy talking about a sacrifice?

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded getting his priorities in order. First, he needed to find out what happened and then he needed to get to Hermione and fix this. She couldn’t be dead. She was one of his oldest and dearest friends.

“The remaining Death Eaters called us through the Mark tonight. They wanted to perform a resurrection spell to return Voldemort to power. They said they were going to make a sacrifice of equal or greater value to accomplish it. Did you destroy them all?” Snape questioned.

“I think so. Voldemort didn’t leave me a checklist. Other people’s memories suggest he made seven. I destroyed seven. Now, take me to Hermione,” Harry answered.

“Not yet, Harry,” Snape responded patiently.

Had he called him ‘Potter’ Harry could have ignored Snape and rushed off to find his friend, but something in the Potion Master’s tone stilled his feet and caused him to listen.

“Who was in the clearing with us?” Severus asked Draco.

“I recognized the voices of Paul and Peter Rookwood,” Draco started.

“I didn’t hear the voices, but the Masks indicated Andrew Rosier, Marcus Gibbon, Ebenezer Wilkes and Tawny Jugson,” Severus added.

“That’s six identified. Was Tawny the one who called us?” Draco continued working out the possibilities.

“I didn’t recognize the Mask she wore, and if I didn’t know she was dead, I would swear the voice belonged to Bellatrix,” Severus answered thoughtfully.

“I thought the same,” Draco agreed. “There were at least twelve with us in the clearing.”

Severus nodded. “We can rule out those identified, they were with us and couldn’t have killed Hermione. The one that sounded like Bellatrix is worrisome. You don’t suppose…”

“No, Voldemort would not have shared the secret of his immortality with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange,” Harry reassured. “Now where is Hermione?”

Severus and Draco shared a significant look, and Draco mouthed, “He doesn’t know?”

Severus tilted his head in response indicating that Draco should leave that conversation for later.

“She’s in the Head Common Room,” Draco answered.

“We’ll Floo in; we don’t want anyone to see us.” Severus took over directing much to Draco’s relief.

Using the Floo in Severus’s sitting room the three made their way to the Head Common Room where Hermione’s body was still slumped over her books as though she’d fallen asleep at her studies.

Harry cried out and ran to her pulling her cold and already stiff body to his chest and holding her as sobs shook his body.

“Who did this?” Severus asked though it was obvious the question was rhetorical as their earlier conversation wouldn’t have needed to occur had he known the identity of the killer.

“I don’t know. The glass shows a memory of me entering the common room and using Avada Kedavra,” Draco related.

“We’ve already covered that Mr. Malfoy,” Severus responded dryly.

“We have to fix this,” Harry sobbed. “How can we fix this?”

“No one knows about it yet except the three of us and the killer,” Snape related aloud. “We need to prevent it.”

“How can we prevent something that’s already happened?” Draco asked.

“A Time-Turner,” Harry breathed, hope springing to life in his eyes that were shining wet with tears.

“No, Mr. Potter. Time-Turners are regulated by the Ministry. They won’t allow us to cheat death for anyone. If the Ministry allowed a Time-Turner to prevent death, your parents and Dumbledore would have been spared. What we need is a Mimzy,” Snape answered.

“A Mimzy, isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Draco worried.

“What’s a Mimzy?” Harry questioned the hope continuing to overshadow the grief in his eyes.

“The best way to explain a Mimzy is a cross between a Time-Turner and a Portkey,” Draco answered.

“It can take you back to any time just like a Time-Turner but unlike a Time-Turner, it doesn’t bring you in time to where were you use it. Like a portkey, the Mimzy can place you in any location at any time.” Severus quantified.

“They’re incredibly dangerous because they can land you in a cell in Azkaban or a dragon’s den as easily as the library at Hogwarts. Not to mention the Dark magick needed to make one.” Draco added.

“They’re Dark magick?” Harry asked Snape.

“Not technically,” Severus hedged.

“Then what are they technically?” Harry asked obviously weighing how far he was willing to sully himself to save Granger’s life.

“It requires a blood sacrifice of something you love,” Draco answered.

“Something?” Harry asked zeroing in on the keyword.

“It can be a house elf or pet, really any living entity that you love,” Snape explained.

“But if anyone can make one, why aren’t more people going back to fix things?” Harry questioned.

“Did you miss the part about it being somewhat Dark magick? Most light wizards wouldn’t even consider it, no matter how much they wanted to change something,” Draco snarked.

“What’s to prevent Voldemort’s followers from using a Mimzy and going back to prevent his destruction?” Harry worried.

“Again, you’re being dim Potter. You have to sacrifice something living that you love. Very few Dark wizards are willing to sacrifice something they care about, even to achieve power, and those who are so addicted to power that they would willingly kill something they love are so obsessed with power that they don’t have anyone or anything they love,” Draco explained.

“Even Voldemort, he was obsessed with power. The only living thing he loved was Nagini. Do you think he would have sacrificed Nagini to bring back one of his Death Eaters?” Snape questioned.

“Besides, the Dark Lord’s Muggle upbringing prevented him from learning the forbidden magicks. Someone was foolish enough to teach him about Horcruxes, but I doubt they were fool enough to teach a power-hungry wizard who knows about Horcruxes that Mimzies exist, too,” Draco added.

“How do you know about Horcruxes?” Harry asked turning to Draco.

“It’s forbidden magick, Potter. Not even all Dark wizard families know about them. The only Dark families who have that knowledge still are the ones who have grimoires from centuries ago and the intelligence to read them,” Draco answered.

“Who knows?” Harry asked.

“The Goyle and Crabbe families have the grimoires, but they don’t use the old history books. They just keep them because they think it makes them look important. The Nott family didn’t maintain their grimoires; they preferred to go Muggle and get rid of their histories. The LeStrange family kept the books and had the foresight to do some of their research but even Bellatrix wasn’t fool enough to make a Horcrux, I think,” Severus continued looking thoughtfully at Draco.

“It wasn’t her; she would have acknowledged me if it were her,” Draco reassured.

“Then who was it?” Harry questioned.

“Had to be a relation. She was too much like Bellatrix not to be. A cousin maybe? Or there was a sister that deserted to marry a Muggle. Maybe she came back to the fold?” Draco pondered.

“No, I know your aunt Andromeda, and she would never join the Death Eaters. They almost killed her daughter,” Harry disagreed.

“Besides the people in the clearing are all dead anyway. What we need to know is who was here,” Severus reminded.

“Can you find any trace magick that might reveal the killer?” Draco suggested.

Severus nodded and began a series of complicated spells which caused all manner of colors to appear briefly in different areas of the room. The main colors surrounding Hermione were black, green, yellow and red.

“Well?” Harry prompted.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Don’t you pay attention in ancient runes, history of magic, or divination?”

Harry growled. “It’s the middle of the night, my best friend is dead, and I’m in no mood for a school lesson.”

“The black shows death. The green shows that Avada Kadavra was the cause of death. The yellow shows happiness; Miss Granger was pleased to see her killer initially and enjoying her studies. Additionally, the yellow shows that the culprit was concealing himself in some way. The red shows that Miss Granger was aware of the danger just before her death. Something gave the concealment away. She knew that the person was in disguise. I’d like to review the glass memory to see if we can determine more. There’s not enough trace magick left to determine who was concealed,” Snape explained.

Raising his wand to the glass, Draco clearly stated, “Commemoro!”

Looking into the glass, the three watched as a reflection of Granger read in her books. Suddenly, she looked up into the glass and smiled at Draco’s reflection as he entered. Her reflection showed her horror as Draco raised his wand and cast, a green light leaving the wand and hitting in the center of the back of her curly head. Her body slumped forward over her books as though she’d fallen asleep. Draco’s image disappeared leaving the common room through the door he’d entered.

Harry had tears streaming down his face and fell to his knees to sob. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

“It was the wand that alerted her,” Snape pointed out.

“What?” Draco asked.

“The wand the imposter pulled. It was made of Yew. Draco’s first wand was made of Hawthorne. Lucius and Narcissa’s wands were both made of Elmwood,” Snape noted.

“Mother’s new wand is made from Rosewood, and my new one is Rowan,” Draco responded thoughtfully.

“The wand did not hesitate. It was bonded to the witch or wizard casting,” Snape added.

“So it either belongs to them or was won,” Draco considered.

“Yew is not overly popular,” Snape asserted.

“The Dark Lord’s wand was Yew,” Draco whispered his voice holding a slight tremor.

“Ginny’s wand is Yew,” Harry added softly with wonder.

Snape smirked. “You didn’t consider that before? Yew is a sign of great power. A Yew wand never chooses a mediocre or timid owner. However, as we know they were trying to resurrect the Dark Lord and its rather unlikely Miss Weasley would Polyjuice herself into Draco in order to murder her friend. It’s not of much help. But it does explain how Miss Granger recognized herself to be in danger in the last moments of her life.”

“Bellatrix?” Harry questioned.

“Walnut,” Draco answered without hesitation.

“Rodolphus and Rabastan?” Harry continued.

“Redwood and Hornbeam,” Draco retorted.

“Regulus used a Yew,” Snape speculated.

“So based on the killer’s wand wood, our suspects include Potter’s girlfriend, the deceased Dark Lord and my even longer diseased cousin. Let’s storm Gryffindor and send the Weaselette to Azkaban,” Draco snarked.

“You’re not helping.” Harry scowled.

“You’re not thinking,” Snape responded.

“So you’re suggesting we take a little trip to Hogsmeade and ask Olivander if he wouldn’t mind sharing his records of everyone that has ever purchased a Yew wand?” Harry questioned.

“Not enough time for that,” Draco disagreed. “We need to start the ritual if the Mimzy is to be utilized before her death is discovered and we lose our window of opportunity.”

“Who should go back?” Snape questioned.

“It has to be me,” Draco and Harry stated in unison.

“Draco, where’s your grimoire?” Snape questioned.

“The ancients lie in the Malfoy library,” Draco answered.

“Get it,” Snape demanded.

Draco nodded and Flooed from the room shouting, “Malfoy Manor Library!”

“What do we need?” Harry asked, looking around.

“I don’t know, Harry. I’m a half-blood. I don’t have the Prince family grimoire,” Snape reminded.

“Then how?” Harry asked.

“Dumbledore allowed me to read in his family grimoire. I’ve seen the spells. Dumbledore only kept the light grimoire. It was Aberforth who had the grimoire about Horcruxes and Mimzies,” Snape explained.

“So why didn’t Dumbledore just ask Aberforth for the information on Horcruxes?” Harry wondered.

“Either he didn’t believe it was in his family’s history, or he needed to know the exact Horcrux ritual the Dark Lord chose to use,” Snape answered.

“Exact ritual?” Harry questioned.

“Each family has its own rituals and traditions. Some aspects of magic remain the same but the Dark Arts, the Dark Magicks are different. Do you remember the secret to the Unforgiveables?”

“You have to mean it for them to work,” Harry answered mechanically.

“Yes, intent is more important than ingredients, order, or incantations. It’s not exact like potions. Dark magick requires determination and fortitude. Each family has its own strengths and weaknesses. The Goyles' grimoire may have the same Dark magicks as the Malfoys, but where the Goyles would use physical force, the Malfoys would use persuasion. Dumbledore needed to know which family grimoire the Dark Lord’s spells came from.” Snape continued in his ‘lecture’ voice.

The fireplace flared as Draco came through, an old, thick tomb in one hand and a white peacock dangling from the other arm.

“You brought Ophiuchus?” Snape asked.

“Sacrifice of something loved,” Draco responded without emotion.

“But Ophiuchus? Why not use Vulpecula?” Snape questioned.

“The more loved the sacrifice, the better chance of success. Ophiuchus is my favorite,” Draco answered and began petting the bird when Snape took the grimoire to turn its pages in search of the spell.

“Crystal cauldron, ceremonial dagger, unicorn tears, dragon scales, lobalug venom and it needs a vessel.” Snape listed running a finger down the list as he read from the book.

Draco set the now sleeping peacock on the sofa in the common room and began pulling the needed items from within his robes. Within a few minutes, the cauldron was set-up on the table with a magical black flame heating the crystal cherry red.

Snape stood back and observed as Draco added 10 unicorn tears, 3 dragon scales, and 6 drops of lobalug venom.

“What do you plan to use as your vessel?” Snape asked.

Draco looked around the room in a calculating way. “It has to be something meaningful.”

“And big enough that you can take Harry with you,” Snape added.

“Why?” Draco asked.

“Miss Granger won’t believe you if you go alone,” Snape pointed out.

“I wasn’t going to introduce myself to her. I was going to prevent her killer from entering the common room," Draco explained.

“You can’t wait outside your rooms in the night. The killer will never reveal himself,” Snape disagreed.

“Then how am I to find him? Flush him out?” Draco pondered.

“Take Potter with you. He knows Miss Granger. He will be able to work with you and convince her,” Snape continued.

“We aren’t supposed to be seen,” Harry pointed out.

“That’s the rules for a Time-Turner. A Mimzy is different.” Draco sighed.

“But the rules are to prevent madness in time,” Harry argued.

“You want to avoid interactions with yourself,” Draco responded.

“So you’re going to what go and tell Hermione that someone’s going to kill her and leave her to defend herself?” Harry questioned.

“No, we only get one shot at this. If we can’t prevent the murder, we are going to capture the murder in the act and stop him,” Draco answered sounding surer of himself than he actually was.

“The cauldron has turned black,” Snape whispered pointing.

Draco nodded. “It’s time.”

Draco picked up his ceremonial dagger and set it next to the cauldron. Standing above the cauldron, he whispered an incantation causing pink steam to rise above it. Breathing in the steam, Draco spoke clearly. “I call to Anti.” As Draco’s words touched the pink steam, purple sparks began to move within the cloud of steam. Draco picked up the ceremonial dagger. “I call to Apep.” With that, Draco used the dagger to cut across his left palm allowing his blood to drop into the cauldron.

As each drop touched the potion brewing, a green bubble rose and popped inside the steam cloud. Draco walked with purpose to the sleeping peacock and gently carried it to the steaming cauldron. The bird woke and opened its eyes looking up at Draco with love and trust. Draco leaned down and kissed its feathered head before shouting, “I sacrifice to Heka!” Tears ran down Draco’s cheeks as he used the ceremonial dagger to twist the peacock’s head from off its body. The head landed in the cauldron and Draco held the flailing body over the cauldron draining all the blood from the body into the boiling potion. Tears continued to run down Draco’s face falling into the cauldron until no more blood ran from the body.

Draco used his wand to levitate the still body over the cauldron and then used Incendo to burn it allowing the ashes to fall into the cauldron, too.

The steam disappeared, and a cup of silver fluid glimmered inside the cauldron clearly visible through the crystal.

Harry thought it looked a lot like unicorn blood as he stared mesmerized at the sight.

Draco looked around once again scanning the room.

“What are you looking for?” Snape asked.

“Something meaningful. There’s nothing here. Damn, I’m going to have to make two sacrifices,” Draco swore before taking a hand of glory from within his robes and holding it over the cauldron.

“Mimminity, Momminity, Mimzy,” Draco chanted as he dropped the hand inside.

Silver smoke poured out of the cauldron and began to fill the room obscuring everyone’s vision.

“Fool, you shouldn’t use a spelled item in a spell,” Snape hissed.

“Potter where are you?” Draco growled.

“I’m here,” Harry answered.

“We have to grab the hand together, or it will only take one of us,” Draco warned.

“Let me clear the smoke,” Snape suggested.

“No!” Draco shouted out a warning, “The Mimzy will only take us while the smoke is here. As soon as it clears, it will be too late.”

“What do I need to do?” Harry asked.

“Think very clearly of the time and place we want to go, just like apparating, and then just like a Portkey, we clutch the Mimzy,” Draco answered.

“I can’t get to you; there’s a wall. Where are the cauldron and Mimzy?” Harry asked.

“Salazar, it must be a one-person spell. Sorry, Potter but I’ve got to go before the smoke clears. Have Snape help you use my grimoire if you want to follow. I’m going back five days to Monday at 6:00 am in the owlery. I’ll wait 5 minutes for you to arrive and then I’ll figure it out without you,” Draco warned before a tornado formed in the room sucking away all the silver smoke and leaving behind an empty crystal cauldron.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“He used the Mimzy,” Snape answered.

“What do we do?” How do we make another?” Harry asked looking around the room for the grimoire.

“We don’t. You’ve already sacrificed enough, Harry. Now, we wait,” Snape answered.

It felt like he was caught in a windstorm but Draco had expected something unpleasant to follow when he touched the Mimzy. Apparating and Floo powder both involved unpleasant sensations. Landing was surprisingly easy, and Draco was pleased to find himself standing upright in the Owlery and not sprawled on the floor among the owl droppings.

Casting a Tempus, Draco was relieved to see it was 6:00 am just as he’d intended. Calling to his eagle owl, he stroked its head and whispered to it while he waited to see if Potter would arrive.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. On one hand, Potter was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors didn’t like anything that wasn’t completely light magick. The blood magick used in a Mimzy would make him question it. However, Gryffindors were also known for rushing in without thinking, and Granger was one of Potter’s closest friends. Then there was the problem of finding a living sacrifice. Would Harry willingly sacrifice a living thing that he loved to join Draco in trying to save Hermione? And would Severus help him? Draco sighed, trying to understand the Gryffindor mind was going to give him a headache.

A chill ran through him as he watched the sun begin to rise, casting a Tempus he saw it was 6:07 am. So Potter either hadn’t succeeded in his Mimzy or he wasn’t coming. Draco had wasted enough time. He had five days to figure out who was going to murder Granger and prevent it.

Draco knew he was going to need help. It was a shame Potter hadn’t been able to come with him. Granger would listen to Potter. He wasn’t sure she’d listen to him and without Potter there to convince himself, Harry wouldn’t be helping Draco in this time either.

Sighing Draco felt the fatigue from the long day he’d already endured. A part of him wanted to sneak into the Head Boy’s room and sleep. Despite the foolishness of the idea, Draco’s exhausted body needed rest and he decided he’d be able to think much more clearly if he got some sleep.

Slinking through the corridors, he waited behind a tapestry outside his room until he watched himself emerge and head towards the Great Hall. Whispering the password, he climbed into his bed and gratefully closed his eyes.

A slamming door woke him from his slumber. Opening his eyes he looked around his room and noticed that the light was dim, casting a quick Tempus he saw it was already late in the afternoon. He would have finished his last class and be on the way to Quidditch practice. He had a few hours before he would have to worry about encountering himself in his room. It was time for a quick shower, fresh clothes, and bite to eat.

Draco enjoyed washing away the dirt and dried sweat that clung to his body from the night before which was really five days into the future, but he couldn’t think about that now, or he’d give himself a headache.

Leaving his dirty clothes in the hamper for the elves to clean, he dressed in a fresh shirt, pants, socks and trousers. Running a comb through his hair and brushing his teeth, he checked his appearance in the mirror. He looked the same as always. Time travel had not disturbed his appearance in any way. This would likely work to his benefit. If he encountered anyone, he knew they would assume he was the Draco that belonged in this time. The only person he would need hide from was himself. If he caught himself, he might think he was polyjuiced, and that would cause any number of problems, especially with the imposter Draco lurking somewhere waiting for an opportunity to take out Granger.

Now he just needed some food, and he’d be able to work on the problem. Pulling on his dragon hide boots, he threw a Slytherin robe over his clothes and headed to the kitchen.

Passing some of his fellow Slytherins, he was scolded that he would be late for Quidditch practice but otherwise no one paid him much attention.

Tickling the pear, he let himself into the kitchens and asked the first available elf for a sandwich. Sitting down at the table and chairs set in the kitchen for students, he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and stared out at the pitch. He could see himself running a seeker drill and shuddered a bit at the unearthly feeling of watching himself do something outside of a pensive or picture.

“Why aren’t you out practicing?” Granger interrupted his thoughts.

Draco’s body visibly jumped in surprise as he turned to see Granger standing behind him looking out the window.

Draco’s Slytherin mind immediately began to calculate the pros and cons of honesty. If he recruited Granger into the mystery she would be prepared when her life was threatened, but he also knew how unreal his story would be, and he didn’t have any proof yet.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Draco answered.

Hermione looked at him with a puzzled expression and then back out at the pitch. Draco watched the color drain from her face as she recognized him performing his seeker moves. Turning she looked at him again only her eyes betraying her panic.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Draco reassured and then could have kicked himself for his stupidity. If Granger knew there was more than one of him she would be more cautious around him and that might prevent her from losing her life.

Granger pulled her wand and pointed it at him. “Who are you?”

Draco sighed. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“No, Draco is out running seeker drills, who are you?” Granger demanded.

“I’m Draco Malfoy. I know it looks bad, but I’m me. I’ll prove it to you,” Draco offered.

“How do you intend to prove it?” Granger asked.

“Well, if I’m not me there are only three possibilities. First and most obvious is Polyjuice. If you sit with me for the next hour, you’ll see that I stay in the same form. The second is a metamorphmagus. That one’s harder to discover but most aren’t strong enough to keep their form when they sleep, are startled, or are in severe pain. The third and last are strong charms. You can cancel the charms easy enough to check. I’d start with a strong Finite and go from there,” Draco advised both trying to use his logic on Granger and think about the true imposter.

Hermione pointed her wand and cast several revealing spells all of which had no effect on Draco.

She frowned and tugged on a curl biting her lower lip in concentration; however, her eyes didn’t leave Draco.

“Let me see your wand,” she demanded.

Draco nodded. “I’m going to take it out slowly.” Reaching into his pocket with two fingers, he slowly took his wand out holding it in the way a new father might hold a dirty diaper.

“Hand it to me,” Hermione directed holding out a hand.

Draco set it in her palm.

“Draco would never let me take his wand, who are you?” Hermione insisted.

“I’m me, Granger. There’s a reason I let you take my wand. I need you to trust me right now.”

“It’s Malfoy’s wand,” Hermione admitted looking at it while keeping her wand pointed at Draco.

Draco sighed. “House elves can see through glamours. Do you trust Dobby?”

Hermione nodded, and a small smile graced her lips. “Dobby!”

Dobby popped in front of them instantly. “How can Dobby be helping Harry Potter’s friend?”

“Dobby, who is that?” Hermione asked pointing at Draco.

Dobby looked at Hermione with concern. “That is Draco Malfoy. Is Miss Granger feeling well?”

“No, Dobby, Draco is out on the Quidditch pitch,” Hermione corrected motioning towards the window. “He can’t be in two places at once.”

Dobby looked suspicious as he looked out the window and then turned to face Draco. He looked over the tall young man and snapped his fingers several times.

“May I?” Dobby asked Draco.

Hermione had no idea what the elf was asking, but it was obvious that Draco knew because he held out a hand. Dobby used a small knife to make a minute incision and touched the blood with his finger.

“It is Master Malfoy,” Dobby told Hermione.

“So the one on the pitch is an imposter?” Hermione asked. “Why aren’t you out there demanding to know who it is?”

“Because that’s me, too,” Draco explained.

“I’m confused,” Hermione admitted.

“Do you remember in third year when you took ancient runes and divination?” Draco asked.

“A Time-Turner?” Hermione questioned. “But you’re not supposed to be seen.”

“I didn’t use a Time-Turner, but I did use another time traveling device,” Draco informed her.

“There are other time travel devices?” Hermione asked. “I’ve never read anything about them.”

“That’s because you’ve never read a Pureblood grimoire,” Draco pointed out.

“There are magical books with information not in the library?” Hermione wondered sounding wistful.

“Granger, if you listen to me and help me, I’ll let you read my family’s grimoire,” Draco baited.

“What do you want from me?” Hermione questioned.

“First, let’s get a basket of food because I’m starving. Then, we can go to your room. You need to make sure that I don’t see myself. I don’t know anything about it and like a Time-Turner running into myself could cause madness,” Draco suggested.

“Dobby, please bring a basket of food to my room. May we use the Floo?” Hermione asked.

“Of course, Miss Granger,” Dobby agreed, getting a tin of Floo powder.

Hermione Flooed to her room immediately followed by Draco. Before they had finished brushing the soot off their clothes, a picnic basket popped into the room full of sandwiches, chips, and sweets.

As they sat and ate together, Draco told Hermione everything that had happened, starting with his Mark burning and ending with getting caught by her in the kitchens.

“I can’t believe you sacrificed your pet to save my life,” Hermione whispered in shock.

“Do you really think I’m so evil that I would value the life of a pet over the life of a human?” Draco questioned.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I was just looking at you sacrificing something you loved for someone you don’t like much,” Hermione answered.

“If you ever tell anyone this, I will deny it, but I actually like you, Granger. You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re even sort of pretty since you’ve grown up. And speaking up for me at my trial and keeping me out of Azkaban didn’t exactly hurt your case in my eyes. Besides, you forget the most important thing; I was set-up to take the fall for your murder,” Draco reminded.

Hermione nodded in understanding. “Slytherin to the end.”

“So how do we save your life and keep me out of Azkaban?” Draco asked.

“We find out who is responsible for the spell to bring the Dark Lord back and who is responsible for my murder,” Hermione suggested.

“And how am I to do that?” Draco asked.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Hermione admitted.

“Well, at least you know not to trust me and to keep your wand handy,” Draco reminded her.

“Don’t forget we also know about the Yew wand. You didn’t have time to go to Ollivander's before you travelled back in time but you have all week to research it. The “you” from this time will be attending your classes, and that leaves this “you” free to go to Hogsmeade.” Hermione pointed out.

“Good idea. Who do you know with a Yew wand?” Draco asked.

“Other than Voldemort and Ginny no one.” Hermione shrugged.

Draco sighed in disappointment. “I don’t like research.”

Hermione smiled. “Do any boys?”

Draco shook his head gently.

“We need a code word, so I know it’s you from the future and not the current you or the impostor who wants to kill me,” Hermione suggested.

“Good idea. What shall our code word be?” Draco asked.

“Something simple that will remind us both without raising any questions if we’re overheard,” Hermione decided.

“Cockroach.” Draco smirked.

“As in foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach?” Hermione smiled back.

Draco shrugged and nodded.

Hermione’s face lit up, and she turned and gave Draco a hug similar to the way she would show affection to Harry or Ron.

“I like that much better than your left hook,” Draco teased.

“Me too,” Hermione agreed blushing.

Hermione sat and studied the foot of her bed as Draco fiddled with his wand shooting sparks of color and bubbles while they waited for nightfall. Familiar with the way Draco did mundane things to amuse himself when he was thinking deeply, Hermione ignored the behavior.

They heard Draco enter the common room and call out, “Hey Granger, I’m in for the night, do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, have a good night!” Hermione called back.

Draco realized just how casual they’d become now that they were sharing quarters. It made Hermione drop her guard and wasn’t good for her safety.

“What was it that Mad-Eye Moody always said?” Draco asked.

“Constant Vigilance,” Hermione answered distractedly.

“Now that I’ve travelled back in time, I’ve changed the timeline. You need to be careful so that you aren’t caught off guard. The change may cause them to use someone other than me.”

“I’ll be careful,” Hermione promised.

“Don’t let your guard down around me or anyone else you’d not be surprised to find in your rooms.”

“You think they might impersonate a teacher or Harry?”

“Better safe than sorry.” Draco shrugged.

“Do you have a place to sleep tonight?” Hermione wondered, glancing around her room with concern.

“Don’t worry, Hermione. Your virtue is safe, as soon as the other me goes to sleep, I’m heading to Hogsmeade and getting a room.”

“You don’t want to leave a trail. I have a better idea,” Hermione informed him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Draco followed Hermione through the dark school and over the grounds until they came to the whomping willow tree. Picking up a rock, Hermione pitched it at the tree and frowned as it sailed past. The tree retaliated swinging its branches towards her.

She picked up a second rock and threw it with similar results. After the fifth rock, Draco stopped her.

“Why are you throwing rocks at the tree? Are you trying to royally piss it off?” Draco teased.

“No, I want to hit that knot. It will deactivate the tree and then I can show you the secret way to Hogsmeade,” Hermione explained.

Draco pointed. “That knot?”

Hermione agreed.

Draco picked up a rock and threw it hitting the knot on the first try and deactivating the tree.

“How did you do that?” Hermione demanded.

“I would make an excellent Chaser,” was Draco’s only answer.

Chucking to herself, Hermione began running towards the tree calling after herself, “Prove it, Chasers are fast.”

Draco ran through the darkened tunnel in pursuit of the curly-haired witch that he was beginning to grow fonder of.

When they reached the shack, Hermione helped Draco to transfigure some old debris into a comfortable bed, pillow and blanket.

“I’ll have the house elves send food in the morning,” she promised. “Be safe.”

“Hey, Granger, thanks. Be careful; make sure you keep constant vigilance,” Draco responded pulling her into his arms and giving her a tight hug.

Hermione nodded.

The next morning, Draco received his basket of food and had a hearty breakfast before a quick Scorgify refreshed his appearance, and he prepared to journey to Diagon Alley.

Pulling his robes so that they hid his hair and face; he worked his way from the shack into the heart of Hogsmeade. Witches were out shopping for their families. Draco took care to avoid being seen so that he would not be thought truant and sent back to Hogwarts to face the Headmaster.

It took longer than normal, but he finally arrived at the Hogshead and was able to let himself inside.

“What can I do for you, Malfoy?” Aberforth greeted.

“I’d like to use your Floo,” Draco answered unsurprised that Aberforth recognized him despite his disguise.

“Where are you going?” Aberforth asked.

“Diagon Alley,” Draco answered seeing no reason not to tell.

“Be careful, Malfoy, Knockturn Alley is more dangerous than usual. Keep your identity hidden and watch your back,” Aberforth warned.

Draco nodded his thanks and set several galleons on the bar. Aberforth slid them under the counter and handed a small pot with Floo powder over.

Draco took it and Flooed into the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom nodded a greeting to him upon his arrival. Draco tipped his head in response before heading out into the Alley. Much like Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley was filled with witches shopping. It was odd to see so many out and about on a Tuesday. Usually, a few witches would be out to do their marketing, but activity like this was reserved for back to school shopping and Christmas shopping. Draco found himself jostled from one witch in a hurry to another. None seemed to pay him any notice much to his relief. It took 20 minutes to get to Ollivanders when normally it would be a 5-minute trip.

Draco sighed with relief when he entered the mostly quiet shoppe.

Ollivander lifted his head and looked concerned. “Ah sir, I don’t believe we’ve met, but I’m quite out of stock today.”

Well aware that Ollivander had known him since he was in diapers, Draco was immediately put on alert. Before he could draw his wand, a cloaked figure melted out of the wall behind him to put a wand to his throat.

“Well, well, well I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect present,” a masked Death Eater cooed.

“He’s exactly what we need,” the woman with Bellatrix’s voice and the mask he remembered added reaching into his pocket and removing his wand.

A shiver ran through Draco’s body and he realized he’d made a big mistake. His calculations were wrong. The woman didn’t know who he was yet. Why would she have chosen to have someone Polyjuice into him? This puzzle was more and more curious.

“It looks like the Dark Lord has provided us with exactly what we need. This boy is Hogwarts age.”

“That boy’s not just Hogwarts age; he’s wearing the blooming Hogwarts Head Boy pin. He’d have access to the Mudblood,” the male voice added.

“We shall have success!” the Bellatrix voiced woman rejoiced. “Get him a wand. Something powerful!”

Ollivander sighed and looked at Draco sadly. His frown seemed to say that he tried to warn Malfoy and was sorry that the warning wasn’t received soon enough.

Ollivander began pulling out wands and handing them to Draco.

When Draco waved the willow wand, it was as though he were a squib. Ollivander raised his eyebrows, but Draco just shrugged.

The fir produced a loud bang and the rosewood sent forth flames instead of sparks.

“How did someone with so little magic become Head boy?” the man taunted well aware that Draco was not cooperating.

“You won’t leave here until we find the right one,” the Bellatrix sounding woman warned.

“Why not let him use his own wand?” Ollivander asked holding Draco’s beloved Hawthorn.

“Because his wand is strongly bonded to him, he’d be able to break the Imperius with that. We need to keep him under our control, but he also needs a strong wand to perform the ceremony,” the woman explained.

Draco watched Olivander pull out the Yew wand he’d seen in the glass and hand it to him.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Draco waved the wand carelessly hoping it would not respond. The wand let out a beautiful sound and produced a golden glow.

“That’s the one,” the woman crowed.

Knowing he only had one chance, Draco turned and meaning it with every fiber of his being shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” while pointing the wand at the man. Green light shot out of the wand like lightning striking the man in his chest and dropping him to the floor. Draco wanted to throw up as the taste of rotted flesh filled his mouth, and the smell filled his nostrils. He’d always heard that taking a human life would rip his soul apart, but now he knew it was true. He could feel a pain deep inside his being as though a vital part of him had died. His innocence was immediately lost in a way that could never be recovered.

Unable to take the time to mourn his loss and lament his decision to take a life, he immediately turned towards the woman. He would worry about the damage to his soul after he’d saved Hermione’s, “Avada…” before Draco could finish the curse a second time, he was wracked with pain from the top of his head to the tips of his toes as the woman performed Cruatius on him in retaliation.

Focusing all his strength to keep the wand pointed he tried to gasp out the curse but feeling so much pain was not only weakening him, but it was also weakening his resolve. His first experience using the killing curse was beyond unpleasant and while he’d received Crucio before at the hand of his father for punishment, he had only experienced this level of pain when Bellatrix had punished him for a perceived fault and that pain had been momentary as his mother had stopped her the moment she’d started.

Draco took shallow breaths and reminded himself that Crucio would not kill you and the pain was only temporary. As soon as the woman grew tired, she would have to release him. As the pain continued, he was soon unable to keep hold of the wand and felt it drop from his fingers. As the pain continued to cycle through his body, he curled into a ball in an effort to cope. After what felt like an eternity in hell, his body finally couldn’t take anymore abuse and he fell into blackness.

He awoke feeling sore all over, exhausted, nauseous, thirsty, and dying for the loo. Opening his eyes, he looked around his surroundings. He was lying on a stone floor in a cell. There was an iron grate in front of him, three stone walls around him, and a stone ceiling above him. Floating candles outside his cell provided meager light so that he could see a square of fabric in one corner and a chamber pot in another.

Draco forced himself to his feet and stumbled over to the chamber pot as quickly as his protesting muscles would allow. After relieving his bladder, he again accessed his situation. They’d left him the clothes on his back, (his wand and bag of money had been taken) the chamber pot, and a single blanket.

Shivering with cold, Draco sat on the floor leaning against a wall and covered himself with the blanket. As he sat and waited for the blanket to grow warm from his body heat, he considered his options. The cell was small and the woman had relieved him of his wand. There was nothing useful in the cell that might aid in his escape. There wasn’t much he could do other than sit and wait.

The masked woman came into the dungeon laughing in a way that reminded Draco eerily of Bellatrix.

“You’re Draco Malfoy.” The woman laughed.

“Fascinating, now tell me something I don’t know,” Draco drawled.

“Such a sassy mouth on one so young. Perhaps another round of Crucio will teach you to respect your elders,” the woman hissed.

Draco braced himself for the pain, but it didn’t come. Raising his eyes, he looked at the woman askance.

“I didn’t know who you were,” she informed him.

“And who might you be?” Draco drawled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you Bellatrix.”

“Can you not guess?” the woman asked.

“You must be a blood relation. It would be easier if I could see your face,” Draco responded.

“Clever boy but since you can do no harm where you are…” the woman suggested removing her mask.

“Isla,” Draco breathed.

“I see you recognize me. You owe me an apology. You murdered my husband,” she scolded.

“That was Hitchens?” Draco wondered aloud.

“Yes, it was. I’d have killed you if I hadn’t recognized you. Now apologize for making me a widow,” she prompted.

“I’m sorry, cousin Isla, I wouldn’t have killed him if I knew he was your husband,” Draco lied.

“I know, dear cousin. I wouldn’t have attacked you in Ollivander’s if I’d known it was you. I would have simply recruited you to our cause. We’re going to return the Dark Lord to power.”

“And how will we do that?” Draco asked feigning interest so he could learn the plan and find a way to thwart it.

“The Black family grimoire has a resurrection spell, better than a Horcrux. You take a sacrifice of equal or greater power and exchange the life for the one you want to return. The sacrifice must be one that was close to our Lord at his time of death,” Isla explained excitedly.

“So Potter?” Draco suggested.

“The Potter brat is too well protected and too strong. We would never be able to get within a 100 feet of him,” Isla disagreed.

“Weasley then,” Draco suggested.

“No, the ginger is not an equal for our Lord. While his analytical skills for battle are impressive, his magick is weak, and his physical abilities are not worthy,” Isla disagreed. “The Mudblood is top of her class. She is brilliant, magically strong and within close proximity of our Lord when he was taken from us.”

“So what do I have to do?” Draco asked.

“Kill her; sacrifice her at the right moment,” Isla answered her eyes sparkling with madness making Draco wonder if his sanity would leave as he aged or if the insanity ran only in the female line of the family.

“And when is the right moment?” Draco prompted.

“When the moon has reached it’s peak on the anniversary of his death. Which will be at exactly 12:05 on Saturday morning. We shall congregate in the Forbidden Forest at the stone circle where the power of the stars is strongest. At the moment of her death, we shall be alerted, and those worthy will join her sacrifice to bring forth our Lord,” Isla answered.

“What good will we be to him if we are sacrificed?” Draco wondered questioning how she could think this would be a good idea.

“We will become one with him as our magick is given to restore him to full power,” she answered her insanity rivaling that of Bellatrix.

“Okay, I’m in. Now let me out so I can get back to school and our plan isn’t discovered,” Draco suggested.

“I don’t think so, boy. No one who knows about the plan leaves until the time is right,” Isla disagreed.

“Can I at least go get a shower and hot meal?” Draco tried again.

Isla laughed. “You killed my husband. The only special treatment you are to receive is that your life has been spared.”

“I see, well at least there’s that.” Draco shrugged feeling every muscle in his body protest at the movement.

Isla laughed and exited the basement.

Draco lost track of time as he drifted in and out of painful sleep. At first, he would need the loo when he woke but as his throat became drier and he felt stronger and stronger hunger pains the need to use the chamber pot abated.

With the dull light filtering from the candles and no wand, there was no way to keep track of time. Draco wondered what would happen when the time came for the ritual. Would he be left in the cell? Would he be expected to kill Granger? Would they use Imperius? There were so many questions and yet he grew weaker without food or water.

“Not so high and mighty now are we Malfoy?” a grungy looking man in ripped pants and a dirty shirt sneered.

Draco let his head rock to the side so he could watch the man.

“Oh, so you’re still too good to speak with the likes of me. I got news pretty boy; you may be rich, but your money won’t help you down here,” the man taunted.

Draco concentrated on ways to get out. If he could get the man to open the cell, he could run though he felt as though he had no strength.

Isla chose that moment to saunter down the stairs. “What’s wrong with him?”

A third Death Eater followed her and waived a wand over Draco casting diagnostic spells. “He’s severely dehydrated and beginning to starve, but he’ll die of thirst long before that happens. When was the last time you drank?”

Draco tried to lick his dry lips, but his tongue was too dry to wet them. “Breakfast,” he croaked.

“That was only six hours ago, he shouldn’t be in this condition after only a few hours; he looks like he’s gone days without food or water.” The mediwizard pointed out looking at him with concerned eyes.

“We took him Tuesday,” the dumb one that had been taunting him earlier chimed in.

“You haven’t given him anything to eat or drink since Tuesday?” the mediwizard asked in shock.

“He killed my husband!” Isla shouted. “He needed to be punished.”

“I hope punishing him is worth losing our best chance at getting to the Mudblood,” the man criticized.

“Is he really that bad?” Isla wondered.

“About twelve more hours and he’ll be dead.” The mediwizard answered letting his tone show the severity of his condition.

“Fine, do whatever it takes to get him ready. We need him to be able to take out the Mudblood tonight,” Isla demanded before storming out of the dungeon in a snit.

“Open the cell,” the mediwizard demanded.

“He might escape,” the grungy Death Eater cast a spell that unlocked the gate.

This was Draco’s chance to run but he didn’t have the energy to stand.

The mediwizard handed him a potion bottle. “Sip it slowly,” he advised.

Draco took the vial and slowly took sips surprised that it didn’t taste nasty the way most potions did. It took him five sips to empty the vial but by the time he’d finished his tongue was moist and his throat no longer hurt.

“That should have helped with the worst of the dehydration. Now sip this one slowly to fix the malnutrition. Narcissa’s going to have Isla’s hide when she finds out what she did to you,” he reassured.

Draco didn’t care if his mother was going to fight with Isla or not. His only concern was getting the strength he needed to escape and prevent Granger’s murder.

“How are you feeling?” the mediwizard asked running a hand through Draco’s greasy hair.

“Like I need a shower,” Draco admitted.

The mediwizard smiled. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t clean up before the event. Come with me.”

Draco smirked; this was going to be much easier than he thought. The man obviously had either deep respect or deep fear of his mother and thought he was a weak and innocent victim. Once he was clean, he’d convince the man to let him go.

He led Draco past the guards and up into the main house. Unlike the Manor, this house was a fortress beyond the dungeon. There were bars on every visible window and guards at every door. One could not leave one room and go to another without passing a guard. Hope for escape began to fade as Draco saw the hopelessness of getting past who knew how many guards to find his way out.

The mediwizard led him through six corridors before he found himself inside a modest bathroom with a sink, toilet, and shower. The man handed him a towel, wash cloth, shampoo, conditioner, and soap.

“I’ll go find you some clean clothes, you wash. If you need anything ask Malachi, he’ll be right outside your door.” The mediwizard informed him letting him know that he wasn’t the pushover Draco initially thought he might be.

“Thank you,” Draco informed him feeling legitimately grateful for the potions that provided him with what he needed for food and drink as well as an opportunity for a shower.

The warm water felt heavenly on his sore muscles. After sitting on a stone floor with a stone wall propping him up after several rounds of Crucio, his muscles were extremely grateful. He took his time to wash going over his hair three times and body five times until he felt like the stink of his body and the dungeon had finally been cleansed from him.

After he was finally clean, he wrapped the towel around his waist and went to the door.

“Do you have clothes for me?” Draco asked Malachi through the door.

“Put these on,” Malachi told him.

Draco swallowed back a lump in his throat when he recognized the outfit he’d seen on the Draco in the glass memory. He dressed himself wondering how he was going to get out of this mess he found himself in.

He now had no doubt that he had in fact killed Granger and the Draco he’d seen in the glass was him. But how to prevent it he couldn’t be sure since he knew he would not willingly have done it.

“Good Draco, you look the part,” the mediwizard praised. “Now be a good boy, ‘Imperius!’” And Draco knew exactly how it had been accomplished because fight as hard as he could he could not shake off the will of the mediwizard.

“Now, take the wand and return to the school. Wait until everyone is asleep and you see Snape head to the forest. As soon as Snape leaves, the castle make the sacrifice.”

Draco nodded in compliance against his will accepting the Yew wand that was offered to him.

Draco was permitted to leave the home but had no idea where he was. Relief surged through him as he realized he could not return to Hogwarts if he didn’t know how to get there.

The mediwizard joined him and raised a wand hailing the Knightbus. Draco’s heart sank as the mediwizard payed his fare and directed the bus to drop him off at the gates of Hogwarts.

The bus ride that was normally entertaining was gloomy for Draco as he wondered how he would ever find his way out of the mess he was in. Once he was dropped at the gates of Hogwarts, he waived the bus away and slipped between the bars, the school allowing students inside where others found resistance.

Draco wondered briefly what had become of his Hawthorn but had a difficult time concentrating and was unable to do much more than act as a puppet, hiding in wait of the scheduled time to act.

Time moved far too quickly, and before he knew it, the sun had gone down, and Draco watched himself run out of the school and towards the Forbidden Forest. Snape followed almost immediately, and he felt his body compelled to enter the school. As he fought his own limbs, he watched in dread as he cleared the distance from the door to the entrance to the Head’s Common Room.

There was no one in the halls, and Draco knew he was not likely to meet with any resistance. Whispering the password, he opened the door to see Granger sitting at her desk by the window studying. She raised her curly head and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

“Cockroach,” she greeted.

Draco pulled out the Yew wand pointing it and trying to fight the incantation. He watched the look of horror on her face in the glass. “Avada…” Draco yelled.

“Finite Incantem!” Hermione countered, and suddenly Draco had his free will back. He dropped his arm and the wand and ran to Hermione.

“Oh, Granger, thank Circe!” Draco praised.

“Are you alright?” Hermione worried looking Draco over in much the same way his mother fussed after he’d fallen from a broom when he was a child.

“How did you know?” Draco wondered.

Hermione smiled and pulled his Hawthorn from the drawer at her desk handing it to him. “Ollivander.”

“Oh,” Draco responded.

At that point the bathroom door opened and Potter entered the room drawing his wand.

“It’s okay, Harry.” Hermione giggled.

“Potter?” Draco questioned.

“Hermione told me what you told her. I didn’t believe it until she told me about your description of my pajamas,” Harry admitted.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you scarhead,” Draco assured him playfully.

“My only question is, how do we send you back to your time?” Hermione wondered.

“That’s right, there really can’t be two of you,” Harry agreed.

“I don’t know; it could be fun. Look at how well it works for the Weasley twins,” Draco chuckled, giddy with delight.

Thunder and lightning lit up the sky and smoke spewed from the center of the Forbidden Forest looking like a volcano about to erupt.

“What’s going on?” Harry wondered.

“The ritual,” Draco answered his face pale. "I wonder what’s going to happen when they realize the sacrifice didn’t happen.”

The castle began to shake as the earthquake took place within the forest.

“Let’s go,” Harry shouted grabbing his wand and running for the door. Hermione plucked up her wand and followed without thought. Draco watched the Gryffindors boldly running to their deaths and considered staying behind, but his Slytherin curiosity got the better of him so that he reluctantly followed at a much more sedate pace.

He arrived to find a hysterical Severus sobbing to Potter about how he wasn’t able to save Draco how Isla had murdered him in front of them all stating he would have to be the sacrifice since he hadn’t provided it.

Draco swallowed hard.

“But Severus, Draco’s fine, look he’s right there,” Harry pointed out.

Severus lifted his head and looked up to see Draco having just arrived at the edge of the forest.

“You’re alive,” he whispered.

“And fortunately for us, so is Granger,” Draco responded.

Hermione turned and threw herself into Draco’s arms. “Because of you!” giving the blond a kiss much to his surprise and delight.

Harry groaned. “I told him not to tell me he liked Hermione before he ever went back in time.”

Severus looked flabbergasted by the response. Shaking his head, he stated simply, “I don’t want to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Livejournal's Timetravel Fest 2016


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